By: Edwin Arlington Robinson 1897 RICHARD CORY By: Edwin Arlington Robinson 1897

Whenever Richard Cory went down town, We people on the pavement looked at him, He was a gentleman from sole to crown, Clean favored, and imperially slim. And he was always quietly arrayed, And he was always human when he talked; But still he fluttered pulses when he said, “Good-morning,” and he glittered when he walked. And he was rich-yes richer than a king- And admirably schooled in every grace: In fine, we thought that he was everything To make us wish that we were in his place. So on we worked, and waited for the light, And went without the meat, and cursed the bread; And Richard Cory, one calm summer night, Went home and put a bullet through his head.

The Eagle and the Mole by Elinor Wylie Avoid the reeking herd, Shun the polluted flock, Live like that stoic bird, The eagle of the rock. The huddled warmth of crowds Begets and foster hate; He keeps, above the clouds, His cliff inviolate. When flocks are folded warm, And herds to shelter run, He sail above the storm, He stares into the sun

If in the eagle’s track Your sinew cannot leap, Avoid the lathered pack, Turn from the steaming sheep. If you would keep your soul From spotted sight or sound, Live like the velvet mole Go burrow underground And there hold intercourse With roots of trees and stones, With rivers at their source, And disembodied bones